King of the Cell (DNF)

Chapter 60: Teddy bear

George POV.

Honestly I was surprised when I woke up and saw Dream just staring blankly at the ceiling beside me. Who knows what he was thinking about and why he was doing it honestly.  It made me worry though, and so I sat up before pressing a gentle kiss onto his cheek to get his attention and thankfully it worked.

He looked over at me, a sleep deprived look on his face which didn’t ease my worries in the slightest as I looked over at him. “Are you okay?” I questioned caringly, possibly for the first time ever since Dream was usually the one making sure I was okay.

It took a moment for the blond to respond before he warily nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine. I was just thinking about things.”
“Ohh, what kind of things were you thinking about?” I responded curiously, leaning closer into him.

“I was just thinking about…” he cut himself off, confusing me since obviously he hadn’t answered and surely he wouldn’t be able to forget. Too long passed before he eventually finished his sentence with ‘my old life’. It felt weird but I didn’t say anything about how he asked it, instead opting to ask ‘what about your old life?’

“Nothing too important.” Dream answered, this time a lot faster than he had been the last time. It did confuse me, but once again I didn’t say anything, since if he didn’t want to say anything to me then I wouldn’t force him too.

The blond let out a relatively quiet yawn, before asking me if I knew what time it was. I shook my head, seeing as I didn’t have a watch, but seeing how many times the two of us asked this it would probably be good if we did. “Maybe I should try and get some sleep.” Dream went on to murmur quietly.

I couldn’t help but smile at him, and watched as he rolled over to go back to sleep. Usually when we slept I would end up laying with my head on his chest, but for once he laid down with his head on mine. It felt nice, the way his arms wrapped around my waist and his soft hair brushing up under my chin.

“Can you wake me up when it’s time for breakfast?” He asked, sounding like a five year old, but it was cute. After I gave him a nod of reassurance he smiled and nuzzled his face into my chest to make himself comfortable. My hands moved to wrap around his torso hugging him closer, as if Dream was a giant teddy bear, which he practically was.

A while passed and I began playing with Dream’s hair which is something that I knew he did when I was asleep. Surprisingly it distracted me for a long time, not that I was complaining since his hair was both soft and fluffy and fun to play with. I wondered if my hair was as soft and fluffy as his was, and if that was part of the reason he liked playing with it.

When I moved my hands up to my hair to check if I was right, I felt happy to know that my hair was just as soft as his was. Satisfied, I returned to playing with his hair, even beginning to braid some of it, but growing increasingly frustrated when I could not. Every time I failed I’d comb my fingers through his hair before starting again.

I couldn’t help but wonder what he was thinking about when I asked earlier, since it clearly wasn’t about his life, or at least it wasn’t as simple as that. If it had been that simple then it wouldn’t have taken him almost half a minute to respond to my question.

When he woke up I would probably have to ask him about it, although I wasn’t sure whether or not he would actually answer. Or maybe Sapnap would know something about it, since he knew a lot of things about the blond which I didn’t know myself, which honestly felt weird seeing as I was his boyfriend (still not completely used to the title) but that doesn’t matter.

For now I settled down, loving the way that his hair felt around my fingers as I continued to mindlessly braid it. Slowly I began making progress after many attempts and trial and error.his hair began looking much prettier. A small giggle fell from my lips as I admired the blond, but just as quickly as it started, I fell silent again, not wanting to wake him up as he cuddled against me.

Dream POV.

“Maybe I should try and get some sleep.” I said after letting out a small yawn. George just blinked at me for a couple of seconds, still seemingly processing what I had said just moments earlier, although they were nothing important.

While he was doing that I rolled over to make myself comfortable, and because the two of us were on a bunk which was small for even one person to be sleeping on, my new position found me on top of him. My head was on the brunette’s bare chest, listening to George’s breathing, which seemed to tell me he was calm, yet somewhat amused at my actions.

“Can you wake me up when it’s time for breakfast?” I asked, looking up at his figure with wide eyes although I already knew the answer would be a yes, seeing as he probably wouldn’t be able to get me off of him if he did want to get up. After receiving a nod from the brunette to show that he would then I allowed my eyes to flutter shut.

George’s hands slowly moved to rest on my back as I cuddled into his chest as though it were a pillow, or perhaps even better, a giant teddy bear. Speaking of, the teddy bear’s hands moved up to my hair, beginning to play with it in a similar fashion to how I would.

The motions were quite soothing, and I very quickly found myself beginning to get tired, well more tired than I had been. I nuzzled my head further into George’s chest, moving a fraction of an inch closer to where the brunette’s face was, an exhausted smile on my face.

But behind that smile I was worried. I had not slept since last night because I’d gotten lost in thought about something, the day that I got arrested. Honestly I hadn’t thought about it for a while, repressing the trauma or some other shit. Somehow though, despite how many months it had been, and how little I thought about it beforehand, I remembered everything vividly.

That included the person who I killed. I always thought of that guy as just some random prostitute, afterall how many people do you find in alleyways that are that eager to hook up with you (who is a random stranger)? But now I knew what had really happened.

George hadn’t been the one to kill Wilbur. It had been me.
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